The Trust

Chapter 4: The Edge

In the end, I stayed.

We had it out in one long, knock-down, drag out fight that went on for hours. No yelling or screaming — we were both too exhausted for that. Just quiet accusations and evasions, leading up to me literally holding the front door open for him and telling him to go. Then, something strange happened.

He got real with me for the first time in forever, confessed to all his sins. I didn't care about the cheating anymore; I was past that. Once upon a time he was my comfort, my soft place to fall but now he was a constant source of irritation — a rock in my shoe, an eyelash under my eyelid.

All I care about now is my daughter and keeping body and soul together until she is through college and out on her own. Then, I can leave with a clear conscience and go my own way. Until then, I feel like everything — my strength, my finances, my livelihood and my sanity — sits on the edge of a very sharp knife.

At least, that's what I tell myself to stay with the bastard.

It turns out he didn't spend all the money for Audrey's college. He threw most of it away on drugs and online sports gambling. He was chasing a big win; something that would right all his wrongs, pay off all our debts. A stupid plan but sometimes fortune favours the fool, and he actually won back some money.

It wasn't huge but it was something. I made him give me every cent, and it's now in a locked-in account at the bank that only I can access when it's time to pay Audrey's tuition. He also agreed to go back to counselling, and to attend meetings for gambling addicts. He fought like hell in the past when I suggested it, but these were my terms for staying in the marriage and they were non-negotiable. To my surprise, he agreed. I have no idea why, except that maybe he's on the edge of the knife along with me.

And so things aren't right, but they're OK as the song says.

In the weeks that followed, I met with bank managers, financial advisers, and credit counsellors to try and get our debt under control. I have a restructuring plan that will see us get out from under it, but it will take years.

It means slashing our household budget to the bone, asking Mom to contribute to the rent, borrowing a portion of funds against the equity in the house to pay off the credit line and making Clive get a full-time job. It's a solid plan and I know it'll work. But I haven't pulled the trigger on it yet.

One step at a time. For now, I'm glad there is peace in my house again, Audrey is set for college and we have a plan to dig us out of the hole we've made. The hole Clive dug for us.

"Hand me the masking tape?"

I shake myself out of my head and back to reality and hand the tape to Brian. We're at the food bank, taking a truckload of canned peaches from the grocery store and putting it into smaller boxes. Every few months, my office spends an afternoon volunteering here, boxing up food for churches and other organizations to distribute to families in the area. When I mentioned that our office should be involved in some way in the community, I thought Brian would scoff but to my surprise, he thought it was a great idea. 

I look around at my colleagues and feel pride. I'm here each week so I know every inch of the place and the routine and can do it in my sleep, but it's all new to the realtors. There's two parts to our organization — The Loaves and Fishes Shelter. There's a warehouse where we box up large donations and send them out to fund breakfast programs and smaller food banks across the island. And we also have a kitchen where we organize volunteers to cook and serve meals three times a day, seven days a week.

I'm proud of my real estate colleagues. They roll up their sleeves and work hard on their volunteer shift. The boss likes the publicity — we always make sure to wear our company t-shirts and have our photo taken for the company newsletter. That's fair. But mostly, they like to help.